


Between the Shadows

by Natasi (SwordDraconis113)



Series: choke this love till the veins start to shiver [1]
Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-07-11 01:50:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7020820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwordDraconis113/pseuds/Natasi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Vera confronts Bridget, Bridget decides the best course of action is to write a thought-out letter to break things off with Franky. It doesn't go according to plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Between the Shadows

**Author's Note:**

> Taking into mind that _legally_ in Australia, Bridget would lose her license and possibly go to jail, I thought that in this universe, it was unlikely that Franky was living there. Just staying over, all the time. Every night. 
> 
> This is also meant to replace the Bridget-Franky scene where Franky tosses her key.
> 
> Also I wrote this for class, with different names (Audrey and Ellie) because I wanted to write a requited star-crossed lovers. And what's better than a psychologist and an ex-con?

Between the Shadows

 

On the third floor of the state library, books are squeezed onto the shelves, and stacked tall in darkened corners. There are sixteen rows of hardwood bookshelves, pressed up against the walls and bowing over aisles. High above them, golden light pools from the eastern windows and doesn’t quite reach the end of the third row, where louboutin heels step off a ladder. 

Feet on the ground, Bridget turns to leave, but as her head rises, the book goes slack in her grip. There’s an intruder in her space.

“What are you doing here, Franky?”

“Thought I’d see what you were up to.” Franky grins, the corners tugging predominately to one side of her face. It’s a mischievous smile that has always warned Bridget of what was about to follow.

“We discussed this.”

“Well, you discussed it. With yourself.” 

Pushing out a sigh, Bridget places the book she’s holding, down on top of a stack of colonial atlases. Her heels stride twice, stopping just before the elongated shadow of Franky. She doesn’t want to make her feel cornered.

“Well?” Franky asks.

Placing one hand on her hip, Bridget gestures loosely with the other, trying to explain. The words stick in her throat. She tries to start again, but the words won’t come out. She doesn’t want to deal with the whys of the matter, just that it’s the best situation for them both. Franky won’t accept that.

The hand drops down beside her. “What do you want me to say?” she speaks, finally. 

Franky’s smile wilts into a scowl. “Exactly what you wrote. In person. To my face.”

Bridget’s lips part, her expression softening. She should have expected that. This time, she stumbles through, “I thought it’d be easier for –“

“Nuh. You wrote me some half-arsed letter to shove me off.” Franky reaches into the back pocket of her jeans, pulling out the crumpled paper to hold it up as evidence. “Pretty fucking yellow-bellied, don’tcha think?”

“Franky –“

Franky shakes her head. “I don’t want your fucking excuses. I want an explanation.”

Bridget casts her eyes away, looking down at the floor. Beneath the white blouse, her chest rises and hold as her shoulders tense. _Cowardly_ sticks out in her mind. She had spent hours writing that letter, carefully selecting words and phrases to show how it was the best situation for them. For Franky.

From the corner of her eye, she can see Franky shifting on her feet, keys jingling in her pocket as she clenches her hands at her side. The letter is stuffed back into her pocket, crumpled into a ball.

“You’re right,” Bridget submits, looking up at her.

Franky blinks, then snaps, “Well, I fucking know that.” 

“I should have said it in person.”

“Yeah,” she huffs and then shuffles on her feet as Bridget continues to stare at her. “Is that it?” 

Bridget’s clears her throat, and asks, “would you like me to say it in person?”

“Why?” A pause slips between them before Franky clarifies, “I mean, we were fine. The sex was good, wasn’t it?”

“ _Yes_ ,” she breathes. “The sex was very good.”

“So?”

“So…I was your _psychologist_ , Franky.” 

“Hasn’t stopped you before.”

Looking away, Bridget’s hands place onto her hips as she straightens her back. She eases a step forward, sucking on her bottom lip as if it can draw in an answer. Silence follows and echoes around them both. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Franky.”

“The truth, for starters.”

Bridget looks up, “In two years, if you –“

“I don’t want to talk about the fucking future. I want to know what changed your mind.”

“ _Franky_.”

“ _Bridget_.”

Bridget raises her brow until Franky squirms guiltily, like a child.

“Stop deflecting,” Franky says. “Isn’t that what you always told me?”

Bridget frowns. Franky had always deflected in their sessions by trying to get a rise out of her with some new sexual innuendo. Even after their sessions stopped, the bravado of using sex and innuendo as a distraction remained a method.

She can’t do that any more.

“This is for the best.” Franky looks up at her; the evening light is disappearing fast and shadows half of her face, making her appear forlorn rather than angry. “There’s a reason,” Bridget says, taking another step closer, “that it’s illegal for psychologists to have a relationship with an ex-client for two years. For all intents and purposes, you are vulnerable in my sessions.”

“So? I only went ‘cause you’re hot.”

Bridget smiles, her shoulders easing. She had worked hard to have Franky progress who she is, to have her see her own capabilities and potential. Somehow, after all of that, after everything, she’d let go of her code of ethics. “We made a lot of progress during that time, and continuing this could jeopardise that progress.”

“Nuh. I don’t buy that.” 

“Franky, please.”

“No! No, I worked too fucking hard to lose this because you suddenly are scared about losing your psych-license.”

“It’s not about that.”

“Yeah, then what? Because if it’s not about that, then it has to be about _something_. So what is this big _something_ that’s got you running scared?”

“You could go back to jail, Franky!” Franky flinches, stepping back. “That’s what will happen. And it won’t be just you who’s affected. If it gets out that we’re together, _every_ other inmate I’ve helped will not only have their hearings revoked, but they’ll be forced to wait another year to get parole.”

“Then let’s not get caught then.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Yes, it is!”

“And just how would we do that?” Bridget asks, looking at her. “I know you want a solution, but there isn’t one to this.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Franky rolls her eyes, but her jaw clenches and her hands pull into fists at her sides. “God, I’ll just sneak into your place, if you want. We’ll go meet up in Brunswick or fucking Fitzroy. All we have to do is wait, what? Just under two years. And then fuck it.”

It would have been nice to believe that, once. “It’s too late.”

“No, it’s not, you’re just scared of what _could_ happen.”

“You should be too, Franky. This is your _life_.”

“This is shit and you know it.” Stepping forward, Franky goes to grab her and hesitates. The hesitation leaves a disappointment in Bridget, soon replaced with warmth as Franky’s arms lower and she moves into the space between them with restrained steps. She’s gentle as her hands laces against Bridget’s, too gentle. “Come on, Gidge. You’re one of the best things in being out, you know?”

Bridget tries to look away, but Franky’s hand lifts up and brushes her jaw. It’s gentle and too soothing. Bridget shifts her eyes away but Franky ducks her head to lock their eyes together. She can’t keep fighting this. She’s so tired of fighting.

“I know,” Franky continues, then, “that I’m one of the best parts of your life too, otherwise you wouldn’t have just written a letter to break up with me.” She smiles at her then and Bridget bites her lip to stop from the hysterical laughter bubbling in her throat.

It isn’t fair. Bridget draws in a breath, and exhales it with a shudder. It shouldn’t be this hard to do the right thing. Over twenty years of working as psychologist, thirty years of dating and Franky is the best part of both worlds. She hates that. She hates herself for being too selfish, allowing this to happen in the first place, and not being selfish enough to take what she wants.

Standing here, with Franky’s fingertips brushing down her cheek, feels too comfortable. Too easy. 

Bridget turns to the palm of the hand, pressing a kiss. Not long ago, Franky would have tried to take what she wants, stopping only if asked. Now, she waits and Bridget can feel her breath near her, slow and unsteady as she tries to hold back on her instincts.

She’s so proud of her. 

But Bridget pulls away from her hands. The touch dragging away, leaving her to feel cold.  “We can’t,” she says, blinking to look away. “Franky, we can’t.”

“ _Fucking hell_ ,” she breathes. “Why not?”

“Because…” Bridget swallows.

“Because?”

“Because.” It’s time to say the truth, she realises. She can’t escape it any further. “We were caught.”

Franky’s mouth snaps shut, her teeth gritting together. Bridget sucks on her bottom lip, wishing she could take the words back.

“When?” Franky asks.

Shutting her eyes, Bridget looks away. “They came to me first, instead of reporting it to the board, but if they had…” She eases a look to Franky, watching the woman bounce on her feet.

“Where?”

“They didn’t say.”

“Then they don’t fucking know!”

“They know.” Guilt snakes in her belly as Franky stares at her. “It’s my fault. I’m sorry, Franky. But it doesn’t change the fact that we can’t do this. There’s just too much as risk.”

“Sure. Fire. Whatever.” Franky nods, her mouth twitching as she look up at the ceiling. She shifts on her feet awkwardly. “Fine. I get it.”

“Franky.”

“No, I get it,” she shrugs. “There’s other people to consider here.”

“There’s _you_ ,” Bridget says. “It’s always been about _you_.”

“Not enough though. Right?”

“That’s not true.” Bridget licks her lips, folding her arms across her chest. “In two years –“

“Don’t.” Franky shakes her head, sniffing as she clenches her teeth. “Don’t just…” She turns away, and then looks back at Bridget. “This is shit.”

“Yes, it is.” Bridget looks away. “But…you’re going places. You’re going to stay on your feet. And out of jail. You don’t need me for that.”

“I didn’t need you for anything,” she snaps, her voice breaking over the words. “But I wanted it. All of it.”

“So did I.” 


End file.
